


Little Talks

by ilovemygaydad



Series: friends in dark places [rewritten] [5]
Category: Cartoon Therapy, Sander Sides, Sanders Sides, Thomas Sanders
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-14 09:00:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19270006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilovemygaydad/pseuds/ilovemygaydad
Summary: summary: remy andersen may be a stubborn, rude, leather-jacket wearing prick, but... nope, that’s it. that’s all he is.WARNINGS: angsty mutual pining, teasing, flirting with someone else’s boyfriend (in a teasing manner), self hate, internalized enbyphobia, internalized transphobia, internalized queerphobia, doubting one’s sexuality, anxiety, trying to change for a crush, physical violence, transphobic slur, fighting, broken/bloody nose, small fight scene, doubtfulness, lots of swearing, mentions of wanting to die, manhandling, harassment, making out, kissing, flirting, being flustered, bets, possibly something else(title is from little talks by of monsters and men)





	Little Talks

**Author's Note:**

> so you may notice that remy’s full name is remus, which clashes with some new canon sanders sides information... and i’m not going to change it because i like that name and it fits remy very well, okay. future fics will be different, but i’m not changing this because of the bastard

Remy dramatically flopped onto the bench at Logan’s table with an equally dramatic huff.

“Remus, why have you suddenly decided to… grace us with your presence?” Logan deadpanned.

“Lo, sweetheart, can’t I just sit with my cousin and his lovely friends every once in a while?”

“No,” Logan said. “You cannot because there is never a time that you interact with me if it isn’t for a favor or to insult me.”

Remy gasped, glancing at the other patrons of the table. The emo one looked confused and borderline terrified, and Remy would feel bad if his problems weren’t more important. “Can y’all believe what he’s saying? I’m hurt, truly.”

“Just say whatever it is that you want to so that we may go back to eating our meals in peace.”

“Fine. I need help wooin’ this absolute  _doll_  of a girl, and--”

“Hold up,” Roman interrupted. “I thought you were gay.”

If Remy had rolled his eyes any harder, he might have strained a muscle. “Ro, honey, I’d have to be deader’n dirt if I wasn’t attracted to Emile freaking Picani. Ain’t no sexuality that can trump utter beauty.”

~~or maybe he wasn't gay maybe he was straight or pan or maybe he only liked emile because sometimes she wanted to use he/him pronouns--~~

“Okay, fair.”

“So,” Logan started, tilting his head the tiniest bit. “Why’d you come to  _me_  for romance advice, of all people?”

“Because you caught yourself a cutie--” Remy winked at Roman over his sunglasses-- “so you’ve obviously got some sort of game.”

Logan blushed slightly. “You do know about the whole fight thing, right?”

Remy rolled his eyes again. “Sugar, I’m not as much of a dumbass as you. I can navigate around any dumb advice you give me.”

“Rem—“

“Please, Logan,” Remy pleaded, gripping his cousin’s shoulders. He hated to have to stoop to begging, but he felt so  _desperate_. “You can’t imagine how badly I want Emile to see me as a worthy partner.”

“Remy, kiddo, you’ve gotta breathe, okay?” Patton coaxed from across the table. “You’re going to work yourself into a panic if you don’t take it easy.”

And Remy  _knew_  that it wasn’t a big deal, but he couldn’t shake his doubts.

“I just… Emile is a livin’  _blessing_ , and I’m the equivalent of milk left out on a hot, sunny day. I ain’t got a chance with ‘er if I can’t get a fairy godmother to bippity-boppity-boo me into a respectable young man.”

The emo kid slightly raised his hand, making eye contact with his lunch. “Uh, who’s Emile?”

“Oh my goodness gracious!” Remy exclaimed. “I can’t believe you don’t know who Emile Picani is. She is just the sweetest; let me tell you. She absolutely  _adores_  cartoons, and she loves helping others--I swear, that girl is gonna fix the whole world someday. She--oops, they must’ve changed headbands during lunch. They’re right over there. The cutie with the gorgeous brown hair and blue headband.” A dreamy sigh escaped him as he pushed his sunglasses into his hair. “They look good in every outfit they wear, on my honor! They’re wearin’ this Steven Universe skater skirt today, and it shows off their legs in a way that’s got me half a step away from fainting. Honest to god, I can’t believe that they’re still single. They’re absolute perfection.”

“I don’t… You just…” The emo boy trailed off, unable to find his words. “You seem really in love with them. I just don’t see why you think that you don’t have a chance.”

Remy frowned, turning to face the others. “Well, every time they see me walking in their general direction, they turn tail and run the opposite direction like I’m some sorta demon that’s comin’ to reap their soul. On the off chance that they hadn’t fled by the time I can get a word in, they always seem like they’d rather be eatin’ soap. It became real obvious, real fast that they ain’t into me in any way, shape, or form.”

“Well,” Patton said, staring somewhere behind Remy. “They’re coming over right now.”

“What? Shit--”

“Hey, guys!” Emile greeted in their sweet, gentle voice as they walked up to the table. Everyone turned to look at them, save for Remy. “Can I borrow Remy for a bit?”

Remy put on his sweetest, fakest smile and finally looked at Emile. “‘Course, hon. You wanna go somewhere else?”

“Yeah, that’d be great, thanks.” Emile began to walk toward the hall, and Remy quickly got up to follow. He took one last glance toward the table and caught Roman winking at him. God  _bless_  that boy’s soul.

They ended up just outside the cafeteria. Remy leaned against the wall, sliding his sunglasses back over his face in the hopes that he’d be less of an idiot with them on, and Emile stood a couple of feet away. They were nervously picking at a loose thread on their sweater, so Remy patiently waited for them to speak. There was no reason for him to make a fool of himself if he didn’t need to.

“Did I do something to upset you?”

Remy was so stunned by the question that he couldn’t even get a word in.

“‘Cause, like, you were staring at me earlier, and I’m probably jumping to conclusions like always, but I’d hate it if I hurt you. That would be a really shi--”

“You’re kiddin’ me, right?”

Emile’s face twisted in confusion. “What? No, of course not.”

“Darlin’, there’s just about nothin’ that you could do to make me mad at you. I was just--”  _Staring creepily at you because I think you’re the finest thing under the sun. Yeah, Remy. That’d be_ real _cool of you to say_ \-- “I was just starin’ off into space.”

“Oh. Okay.” There was an awkward pause before Emile blurted out, “Cool, well, I’m gonna go now. Bye!”

They were gone in a flash, leaving Remy staring at the space that they’d previously occupied. With a heavy sigh, he exited the school. Lucky him, having a free period after lunch anyway. He could cry in the comfort of his own home.

* * *

If you had told Remy Andersen a week ago that he’d be wearing a sweatshirt to school, he would have told you, “I’d rather be dead than wear a sweatshirt, sugar.”

Well.

The point still stood because Remy  _really_  fucking wanted to die.

And,  _yes_ , it was his own choice to completely disregard all of the times that his friends had told him not to change just to impress some boy, but heaven be damned if Remy wasn’t thirsty as hell. There was a cute boy, and Remy was ready and willing to try just about anything to gain the ability to kiss that pretty face.

Read:  _almost_  anything.

Remy wanted his leather jacket back, and he wanted his ripped skinny jeans, not the plain blue ones that he’d pulled from the darkest recesses of his wardrobe. He’d had to borrow this baby blue hoodie from Patton because, of course, he owned zero hoodies.

And everything was  _fucking_  great because Emile was  _totally_  paying attention to him trying to be more approachable.

This was  _fine_. Everything was fucking  _fine_.

* * *

Remy wore sweatshirts for a whole two days before he caved and went back to his leather jacket. There was exactly zero change in the way that Emile acted, and it fucking  _sucked_. It was pretty obvious that he had no chance in getting Emile’s attention, and there was even  _less_  of a chance of actually being able to date them. Or even of being Emile’s friend because the fact still stood that Emile disliked Remy so much that they physically ran away every time he was nearby.

Thus, it was Dramatic Bitch Hours, and Dramatic Bitch Hours meant spending the entirety of lunch outside, brooding in the student courtyard.

Although it was nearing the end of May, it was a rather chilly day, and very few students wanted to be outside in the cold. One might suspect that Remy wouldn’t like the cooler days with him being from the south and all, but he found them rather pleasant for this very reason. Fewer people made it easier to relax and brood in peace. He was the only one in the courtyard, which made everything so nice and peaceful.

Well…

It was peaceful for a few minutes before some idiotic jocks decided to barge in.

“Don’t run away from us you fucking tranny!”

“You can’t waltz around and pretend to be something you aren’t,” a second voice snarled. “We saw you using the men’s bathroom earlier.”

“I’m surprised, seeing as your heads are so far up your asses!” a smaller voice shot back.

A smaller voice that belonged to the one and only Emile Picani.

 _Shit_.

“Don’t fucking talk to us like that!” The group rounded the corner, and Remy could see that it was two jocks (one tall and the other muscular) harassing Emile. It felt like slow motion as he saw Emile’s small body stumble after being pushed by the taller jock.

“Hey!” Remy shouted, launching up from his table and storming over to the group. “Y’all had better knock it off  _real_  fast and leave them alone!”

The taller one sneered. “Or  _what_? You’ll hit us with your precious sunglasses?” He took a step forward, and the other jock grabbed Emile from the ground in a tight grip.

“Remy, stop,” they pleaded. “ _Please_ , just leave.”

“Yeah, Remy,” mocked the muscular boy, gripping Emile even tighter. “Run away like the coward you are.”

Remy glared at the jock looming over him. “Sorry, doll. I don’t back down so easy.”

There was about a half second of angry silence before the tall one pounced at him. With the grace of many years of training, Remy took advantage of the momentum and threw the jock over his shoulder. The boy let out a heavy wheeze as the air was knocked clean out of his lungs, and Remy turned to face the other bully just in time to see Emile thrown to the ground again. The boy who had been holding them growled, stalking up to Remy and reeling back for a punch.

In a fraction of a second, Remy’s knee jerked up to catch the jock in the stomach. He took advantage of the moment of shock and ran his elbow into his nose. The boy stumbled back, clutching his face. The taller jock, who had recovered from being thrown, ran over to his friend with a gasp.

Remy casually straightened out his jacket, not even slightly winded. “I think it’d be the best for both of y’all if you went to the nurse’s office. That broken nose sure ain’t gonna heal itself, hon.”

The boys began to rush out of the courtyard, but Remy called out to them, “Oh, and I wouldn’t tell anyone what really happened out here.” He smirked. “Wouldn’t want everyone to know that y’all got beat up by the queer kid, now would we?”

Both jocks had the fear of god in their eyes as they nodded and ran into the building. As soon as they were gone, Remy was at Emile’s side.

“Sugar, are you okay?”

Emile nodded slightly as Remy sat down next to them. “Yeah, just startled. Also, how the  _hell_  did you do that?”

“I’m a black belt in taekwondo. Ma thought it’d be a good way to get out my destructive energy as a kid, so I ended up getting real invested.” Remy shrugged. He didn’t find it a very interesting part of his history, but it was useful at times.

“Holy shmokes…”

Remy smiled slightly, leaning back on his hands. “Y’know, I’d reckon that this is the longest conversation that we’ve had without you runnin’ off.”

A bright pink blush spread across Emile’s cheeks. “I’m so sorry.”

“‘S all right,” Remy said, waving his hand dismissively. “Ain’t your fault that you don’t like bein’ ‘round me, hon. I don’t really blame ya; I’d prob’ly hate me, too, if I were you.”

“You think I hate you?” Emile’s voice sounded sad and hurt, which didn’t make  _any_  goddamn sense.

“Yeah? Sure made it seem like you did.”

“Oh my god,” Emile said. They buried their face in their hands. “God, no, Remy. I don’t hate you at all!”

Remy stared at Emile for a hot second. “If that’s some kind of practical joke, it sure as  _hell_  ain’t funny.”

“No, no! It’s for real; I swear. I don’t hate you in the slightest.” Emile peeked out from behind their fingers. “I actually kinda have a crush on you.”

“Holy  _shit_. This can’t possibly be real.” Remy shook his head.

“Trust me, Rem. It definitely is,” Emile said as they slowly crawled into Remy’s lap. It was as if they’d been doing it their whole life. “Is this okay?”

Remy’s mind went haywire at the close proximity to his crush. “Yeah. It’s very much okay, Emile.”

“I don’t think that I’ve ever heard you call me by my real name.” Emile leaned in closer to Remy. Their eyes met, and it was easy to see the flirtatious fire in Emile’s eyes. “I wouldn’t mind hearing you say it again.”

“Gurl, you can’t--it isn’t fair for you to say that kinda stuff and expect me to think properly.”

“Maybe I don’t want you to,” Emile whispered as they  _finally_  closed the minuscule gap between their lips.

And  _wow_. Remy had imagined being able to kiss Emile in many daydream sessions, but the real thing was something else entirely. It was soft, and he could taste brown sugar and cinnamon on Emile’s lips, but a warmth had bloomed in his chest unlike anything that he had ever felt before. It took him a second to realize in his romantic haze that he had Emile’s skirt clutched tightly in his hand, but he couldn’t really bring himself to care. Not while he was kissing a literal angel.

All too soon, Emile leaned back from the kiss. Remy pouted, but he wasn’t able to get a complaint out before Emile said, “You look absolutely  _wrecked_  right now.”

Suddenly, the heat wasn’t just in his chest. “That… I swear to god, that ain’t fair.”

Emile cocked their head the tiniest bit. “What isn’t fair?”

“No human bein’ should be so perfect. You’ve got the looks--” Remy placed a kiss on their cheek-- “and the personality--” Another kiss to their nose-- “and you’re an  _amazing_  flirt.” He pressed a final, quick kiss to Emile’s lips, which made them giggle.

“Shut up! You’ve been my boyfriend for a whole two minutes; let me get used to it before you do sappy stuff!”

Remy’s eyes widened. “I-I’m your boyfriend?”

“Yeah! I mean, unless you don’t want to! I’m not going to force you or anything—“

Emile was cut off by Remy engulfing them in a hug. “Sugar, you’ve got no idea how much I wanna be your boyfriend. I’m just surprised that  _you_  wanna court  _me_.”

“What? Why wouldn’t I?”

“Have you not heard a single word I’ve said this whole time? You’re, like, the most incredible person on this planet. It’d be an honor just to be able to call you my friend.”

Emile laughed, leaning their head on their boyfriend’s shoulder. “Since we’re letting out our dirty laundry, I suppose that I should confess that I was worried that you weren’t going to want to date me because you’re gay, and I’m not a guy.”

“Sexuality is fluid. I can like you and still call myself gay, right?” Remy’s voice almost sounded scared—like he was afraid to say something wrong.

“That’s fair.” They felt Remy shift a bit, smiling. “Is it too early to say that I love you?”

“Nah. I love you, too.”

* * *

“That’ll be ten bucks, Virgil,” Logan said, holding his hand out for the money as he stared out the doors to the courtyard. They had been planning to eat outside to work on a project together, but Virgil had seen their friends sitting on the sidewalk and stopped them before they intruded.

“We don’t even know what happened! This is stupid,” Virgil grumbled as he slammed the money into Logan’s hand.

A wicked smirk spread on Logan’s face. “All’s fair in love and war.”

“I’m gonna fucking tattle on you to Patton, and he’ll kick your ass to next week.”

Terror overshadowed the smugness in Logan’s expression, and he moved to chase after his best friend. “Wait, hold on! We can talk about this!”


End file.
